


Feral

by Prestidigitations



Category: MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sometimes I wish I was kidding, Werewolf Culture, everything is exactly the same but Steve is a werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prestidigitations/pseuds/Prestidigitations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Torn between his two worlds, Steve Rogers is dealing with the Avengers initiative while also investigating the grisly serial murder of his people and trying to stop the panicked onset of pack on pack violence going on in New York City before the humans learn of their existence or word gets out to the others of his kind and they send in 'specialists' to deal with the wolves of New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feral

**_This is the song of the Moon, whose face makes her people hungry for the night; this is the song of the Wolf, whose sharp teeth and swift feet chase the dawn for her pleasure; this is the song of the People of the Wolf, whose hearts were laid open to the moon to receive the blessing of new life and form, who became the night, swift and silent, to hunt for her glory._ **

**_We are the Children of the Moon, the People of the Wolf; we are the night; we are the joy of the hunt and the power of the kill; we are the People and these are our songs._ **

**_When White Amadar, the first of the people, came to the moon, she had nothing to offer but her own life in tribute. She carved out her heart with a silver knife and begged the moon to bless her people, who were hungry and cold and weak from the trials of man, who hungered even then for the pelts of their enemies._ **

**_The moon was moved by her plea, for she had not asked for strength nor riches, but for the power to protect her own from harm; and so the moon took Amadar to her breast and gave her people the strength of the night and the beauty of her own bright face. She gave them teeth and claws to hunt, sleek pelts to blend into the darkness, and all the riches of the forests for their pleasure; they would become her children, and she would protect them for as long as they honored her gift and upheld the laws of the Higher Singing, as laid down by Amadar._ **

**_We recite now the first laws of the People, passed down from the First of the People, from the mouth of the moon:_ **

**_Honor the pack and the People for only they can honor you in turn._ **

**_Pity Man for he is not of the moon, and do not eat of his flesh._ **

**_Obey the First Wolf who is to his pack what Amadar is to her people._ **

**_And above all else, never tell the Children of Man of the People’s existence, for man alone hungers for the heart of the Wolf and has the means to slay him…_ **

****

_The hills of France are full of wolves. Steve knows because he is one of them, and it has always been so._

_France is said to be the ancestral home of his people, the cradle of their civilization, and he is glad to have been allowed the privilege to run here, however briefly, and for whatever reasons._

_The moon is full and heavy, but already the sky is tinged pink from the coming sun. The hour of the hunt is over; this is the time when the People return to their homes to shed their pelts._

_Steve has no den to return to, just a stretch of filthy canvas tents in the freezing forests of Europe and the hungry grumbles of his men, footsore and far from home, on their battlefield, so he can take a moment to linger in the quiet with his prize._

_The forest is French, but tonight, two of its occupants are English. One leaps out to join him in a headlong run through the trees to his camp; the other soon flanks them, though she has much farther to go._

_Her fur is foxy-red and shimmers even in the dusky half-light of the new day, her eyes catch the last glimmers of the moon and hold them like fire, and when she snaps at his face when he runs too close to her he laughs._

_She is lovely; the wolves in the hills have hunted, sung and fought for her all night._

_They stop at the edge of the tree line just before where his camp is hidden and he brushes her shoulder and lays the prize he’s caught for her at her feet._

_The sound of the rival calls of the wolves on the hills and the heavy weight of the full moon’s light have made him reckless and wild and just this once he’d like to impress her._

_In the coming light, the rabbit practically glows, its pelt a startling white. She brushes her nose softly over his in question and nudges the tiny creature._

_White is the colour of their god and rare in the forests of any country; the rabbit is a good omen. For a moment it stands there paralyzed, but then it seems to gather its courage and bolts through the tree line; Steve has managed to catch and carry it to her completely unscathed._

_He suddenly feels stupid and silly and he nudges the air under her nose in an awkward half apology; in the wake of the fights he’s heard over her in the hills, the gift of a half-stunned rabbit, however odd, seems pathetic, but her eyes are warm and she lolls her tongue in a lupine grin._

_“Quick study,” she says in the flick of her ears and the twitch of her nose. “More than I can say, for some. I am impressed.”_

_“Yeah, well, I had a good teacher,” he replies, dancing on his big paws and grinning back. “It’d be a shame to waste all your hard work.” It would be; she had spent many hours with him in the hills of now far-flung America teaching him the foundations before they had come here._

_There is little use for a wolf that can’t hunt, that much she had made clear, and he’d been careful to keep up with her training._

_Something in her gaze softens briefly and she touches his nose again and sweeps her tail back and forth, just once._

_“A rabbit is nice,” she laughs opening her mouth in a snarl, “But bring me a HYDRA base tonight.”_

_“We’ll do our best,” he says and tries to mirror the ferocity in her expression.  He doesn’t think he succeeds, based on the way her eyes laugh at him, but she noses him over, all the same and then turns away to disappear into the field._

_He watches her go with a heavy heart; it had been fun to run with her again. His other companion rubs along his flank to offer comfort and snaps playfully at his ears._

_“A rabbit, Rogers?” he laughs, “Great Amadar’s grace, you are terrible at this.” Steve had forgotten he was watching and he snaped back at him playfully to hide the way his hackles rise in embarrassment._

_They make it back to camp and their fellows are still mostly asleep, though Dugan is up to start breakfast and Bucky has stayed up to wait for them, the way he always does._

_“How’d it go?” he yawns, tossing Steve a shirt as he begins the change into his skin. “I heard a buncha ya out there last night, no trouble, right?”_

_“It went fine, Buck,” Steve sighs, rolling his eyes and grabbing for the pants he’s offered as soon as he can form words. “What’d you think we did, go out and pick a fight with the locals on their turf?”_

_“Well, you ain’t exactly known for knowing when to stay out of one,” Bucky sniffs. “And it’s harder to keep track of you when you go all furry and rush out into the night.”_

_“You say that like he has a choice in the matter,” Falsworth chuckles as he emerges from his own pelt. “He did fine, not a scratch on him, a pack of males made a play for his bird and he spent all night catching the rarest damn thing in the woods instead of taking them apart like they weren’t half his size.”_

_“Carter was out there?” Bucky asks, surprised. “Base camp is like three days behind us already.”_

_“That’s nothing on a full moon,” Falsworth points out mildly. “Though she might have been tailing us to make sure we got through clean.” His men trade knowing looks and Steve blushes at their teasing smirks._

_“You better marry that girl, Rogers,” Bucky grins, shaking his head in mock amazement and raising his eyebrows playfully. Steve shoves him hard and watches with smug satisfaction as Bucky flails to keep his balance._

_“If a bitch like that ran with me on my hunts, I’d have settled down somewhere already, war be damned.” Falsworth adds. “I don’t know why you didn’t just teach those dogs a thing or two last night, you eat bigger things for breakfast.”_

_“Yeah well, he’s a lover not a fighter,” Dugan mumbles sleepily as he shuffles past them and claps him on the shoulder. “It’s okay Cap, not all werewolves were cut out to be killing machines.”_

_“Don’t say the “w” word,” Morita yawns finally emerging from his tent. “You know they hate that. Look, Cap’s gone all frown-y.”_

_“Cripes Jim, put some pants on will you.” Falsworth wrinkles his nose as the man sits down next to him and starts to stoke the fire that Dugan has set up._

_“Shut up, you’re naked too.” he snaps. Steve grins at Bucky who mouths ‘Tryin’ to act tough, I bet he’s freezing’ but won’t add to the argument._

_“I turn into a great hairy beast and roam the woods at night, what’s your excuse?”_

_“Fellas,” Steve says trying hard not to grin at how grumpy they all get at this hour. Gabe, the only other morning person in the group besides the wolves ambles in from where he was shaving and plops down next to Bucky._

_“Why are we fighting?” he asks, “And I see our two furry friends are back. How was werewolf camp?”_

_“Violent, naked, and exhausting for all the right reasons,” Falsworth ticks off of his fingers. “Bloody great time honestly, not that the Captain would know, he spent half the night hunting and the rest running with Agent Carter.”_

_“_ Running _with Carter huh?” he grins and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Steve groans and puts his head in his hands._

_“Where is the chain of command here?” he grumbles into his palms as the men around him snicker._

_“Pretty sure that breaks down when you learn your CO is storybook monster-” Bucky grins._

_“And a government experiment-” Dugan cuts in helpfully._

_“And neither of those things happen to be related.” Morita adds, “Honestly_ Sir _, you might have saved us from those HYDRA bastards, but it’s a miracle we didn’t shoot you the first time you transformed.”_

_“Though you did save us from this moron over here,” Dugan yawns, prodding at Falsworth to get him to move so he could join them. “So thanks for that.” Steve grins and ducks his head to dodge the affectionate swat from Falsworth._

_“Yes, thank you for not letting me kill all of my friends. By the way, had I been in my right mind, I wouldn’t have shot you,” he chuckles, “Honestly, you are all ingrates.”_

_They laugh and Steve settles back, enjoying the gentle bickering as more of the men emerge from their tents to join them. It feels good, after so many years of scornful isolation, to feel a real sense of pack._

_Something in the wind caught his attention, a faint hum that he could hear over the sounds of his men going about their morning. He cocked his head to better source the sound and felt a sudden sense of unease._

_“What’s that sound?” he asks as the noise swells to roar that becomes impossible to ignore. His men continue their routines as if they can’t hear it all. “Fellas?” They all ignore him and keep talking and he feels frantic, something is happening, something-_

The clock on the stand read seven AM and its alarm blared at a level that was intolerable to his over sensitized ears.

Blurry confusion quickly turned to grief and Steve’s snarl was less than human as he knocked it into the wall in a flash of temper.

He had honestly forgotten he’d set an alarm. Then again, it had been months since he had slept in at all, more than enough time to forget.

That was the least of his problems today, he thought, turning onto his back with a huff and listening to the mice scurrying rapidly through the walls of his apartment, their faint scent sour with fear. He scrunched his nose against the acrid scent of cats he smelled coming from his neighbor’s apartment, and the burnt bacon smell coming from a few floors up. He laid in bed, cursing how keen all of his senses became on days like these, and felt the heavy weight of his body spasm and twitch.

His bones felt thick and syrupy, they ached, and he dropped an arm over his eyes to shield them from the scant sun, as they were especially sensitive. His body was wrung tight and on high alert, trying to tell him something he already knew: That night was a full moon. It certainly explained his symptoms; maybe explained the dreams too.

 It had been a nice dream, but for all that it had angered him to have been awakened, it was for the best: it was Wednesday, which meant mandatory SHIELD reports were due and he needed to focus if he was going to survive past the pre-moon lethargy and actually face the day.

He would need all his patience, because Wednesdays also came with the added burden of mandatory interaction with SHIELD personnel, and occasionally, the rest of the Avengers.

Not that he particularly minded his teammates, for all that they bickered and squabbled like crows on a kill; they could be a distraction, which was exactly what he needed right now.

Two weeks from the date would mark the two year anniversary of the Battle of New York and they were still awkward around each other, the silences between words pointed and telling, but they were working on it, at least he was, though there were definitely miles to go yet, particularly between himself and Tony, though not for lack of trying.

Steve had said a few things to Howard’s son he now regretted because that out of all them, he’d learned it was Tony who really had the greatest sense of pack.

The man had pursued Bruce when the good doctor had gone to ground with the tenacity of Steve’s kind across several continents and, over the course of several months, appeared at every dingy hospital and filthy hospice with his trademark attitude and cocky grin; offering gifts and advice and lord knew what else until he had finally run him down and bullied him back to New York where he could court him with the rest.

He had won Clint first, the siren song of his sinfully delicious and appallingly overpriced coffee and the idea of a whole floor designed especially to his tastes too tempting to ignore; Natasha was not far behind, when not on missions she had taken to keeping the archer as close as possible after the disaster earlier in the last year.

Three avengers in one place was enough to invite chaos, and the sudden influx of would be aggressors and supervillains attacking the tower was enough to convince SHEILD to have Coulson move in full time after his wounds had healed a bit, just to keep up with the paperwork.

A torrential storm in September returned Thor to them, battered and dazed from hard combat in the world of the gods, but ultimately glad to be back among his human friends and the woman with whom he had fallen in love.

Tony pounced on him quickly, shepherding him to his tower and showering him with all the comforts of the modern world; Thor healed quickly and settled in, homesick, but hopefully never too lonely with all the commotion and company.

It was his breakup with Pepper Potts that won him Bruce in the end; she was a queen, but there were only so many near death experiences you could go through before you reached a breaking point as a civilian and it seemed the woman knew her limits well. She saw Tony thriving in a world she couldn’t bear and wisely chose to leave before she did something she regretted.

Tony had a special brand of selflessly selfish sort of self-destruction that was all his own and it came out in spades following the break up; Bruce moved in after to keep an eye out since he was unlikely to heed his other roommates.

 Only Steve remained unwilling to move in; he stayed in his luxuriously furnished guest suite on occasion but refused to join rest, something that seemed to irk Tony to no end. Steve smiled slightly at the thought. The man was more like the wolf than he knew.

Still, for all that Tony craved a pack and made a home for them, he was not of the People, none of them were, and it was for the best that he kept himself separate from them.

Steve was wolf-kind, and both his pelt and man shape were still relatively new to him. A few years in the war were not enough to learn the mysteries of his fur and looking in the mirror on sleepy days could still startle him. It didn’t seem wise to tempt fate.

He yawned and stretched luxuriously before curling back up into the warmth of his bed and then, just because it felt right, started the change.

There was a moment of familiar, heady pain- the harsh pull and sweet release of bones and joints shaping and reforming, the intoxicating rush of new teeth and claws pushing out from his hands and the decadent way it felt when the arch of his back curled in that way that was deeply satisfying- before he lay there, fully transformed.

There was a mirror on his door and he studied his reflection thoughtfully.

 _Wolf_  was not the word he would have used to describe what he was; he was too long, lean and rangy, like a cheetah, his ears were too big and swept back from his muzzle, but there was something lupine about the shape of his head, the sharp taper of his snout, and the long bottlebrush of his tail.

They were not wolves, not truly, but perhaps once they had been. His people had supposedly ruled the world before the true coming of man. Their legends said they had evolved from the men and wolves that once roamed the earth; who knew what those ancient creatures had once been like.

He sighed and released his hold on his fur, shuddering into his skin with a slight twinge of pain. Pain and pleasure were linked in the change, his body craved it while he shed his skin, but whatever flooded his system was slower to ignite when he shed his pelt for human hands.

It was as if he was meant to be the wolf all of the time, and his body knew it.

He shook the thought with a snort and stood up to get ready to face the day.

Fighting with the coffee maker was always first on the list; it was a gift from Tony, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the man had built it for the specific purpose of frustrating him. He pushed the buttons in the sequence directed on the pink post-it note he kept taped to it and waited for the earthy scent of coffee to fill up his apartment.

Caffeine did nothing for him, but there was something comforting in the loamy scent of it, it reminded him of those days now long past spent in front of campfires trading stories with pack and friends.

The smell also helped dampen the scents coming from out of the apartment too, which would help clear his head while he cooked breakfast and contemplated what to do with the few hours before he had to take the subway to SHIELD’s liaison offices in midtown.

After devouring a carton of eggs and considering a plate of raw bacon, he abandoned his kitchen and returned to his room to hunt for clean clothes.

The closer it got to Fullmark and as the moon’s power grew, the more the idea of clothes felt close and confining. Like all wolfkind he preferred to sleep bare, but he found he was wearing less and less clothing while denning in his apartment.

He showered, hoping to cool some of the heat he felt building beneath his skin and contemplated what to do with the seemingly endless hours that stretched before him.

The mural in his spare bedroom-turned-studio begged to be finished, but he found he wasn’t much in the mood for the dull, messy sprawl of blacks and greys that was the slowly emerging skyline scrawled across the wall. He knew it was the moon, but he craved colour and motion- the ugly, jarring weight of huntsong and night’s dance -a sharp swirl of browns and greens saturated liberally with the brightest red of fresh blood and eyes that caught light and held it in the darkness.

His senses sharpened again and he found that even the thought of the night’s hunt brought his claws out and made his mouth water around developing fangs. He groaned and collapsed on his couch in a heap.

So much for his carefully practiced self-control.

What good did it do to pretend he would be anything other than useless while the promise of the night hung over his head? He considered leaving his phone and going for a run, followed by a walk straight out of the city to shed his skin and burn off some of the fire of the change.

It was going to be a  _long_  day.

Something in the apartment shifted suddenly and he felt his body tense at the intrusion. The usual mixture of minute sounds and familiar smells muted beneath the presence of the new threat and he stiffened but relaxed almost immediately once his brain caught up with his senses and he realized who it was.

Steve didn’t get many visitors; most that did come made themselves known in various ways. As it stood, only three preferred stealth, and only one of them was good enough to sneak in past the senses of his people near the full moon.

“Tasha,” he sighed and when he knew what to look for, he could catch the subtle scent of fresh snow and old ink. The quiet shifted in his apartment and suddenly she was standing there beside the sofa, leaning casually on the arm by his feet.

“Good morning,” he smiled. He would never pick favourites on his team, but something about Natasha’s vicious and oddly dangerous brand of companionship was comforting and calming. Her expression hardly changed, but her eyes softened and she tapped her fingers against his ankle in hello.

“Have you eaten?” she asked without preamble. She tended to avoid pleasantries whenever possible which Steve was grateful for.

“Eggs,” he replied, “Why?”

“Fury wants us in early,” she answered, “We’ll grab bagels on the way.” Steve frowned, that was unusual, but then again it was the anniversary of their coming together; maybe the man had something that needed saying. Hopefully there were no more surprises lurking on the helicarrier; the news of Coulson’s “death” having been greatly exaggerated was more than enough.

They arrived at SHIELD with enough bagels to feed an army. It was just as well because Tony was clearly in a mood and the food would probably calm that. Thor was away somewhere loitering with his lady love and Bruce and Clint were already in their seats, hunched over and irritable; neither of them were morning people.

“There’s my favourite American icon,” Tony said with a grin that held little warmth, “What took you so long, polar bear, I can’t imagine there are that many old ladies needing help across streets at this hour.” Steve ignored the dig and handed him a sesame seed bagel on his way to his chair.

He knew that Tony lived to tug his tail and for some reason the man always knew when he really had him riled. It was always best in these situations to cut him off at a pass and stop him before he really got running.

The man took the bagel with a happy sound and sat at his preferred seat on Steve’s right so he could dig through the box for condiments. Steve felt his lips tug up into a grin; Tony was a pain in the ass on his best days and a holy terror on his worst, but he was also a loyal friend and fierce fighter, nothing more could be asked for.

Before the war and the serum Steve had been weak and sickly; wolves had a word for that in their language that could be roughly translated to last or least. His mother had raised him well away from the packs of New York. He suspected it was the isolation of growing up with humans like Bucky and fighting with the commandos that made it so easy for him to bond with them. For his people, he had an unusual soft spot for humans, especially scrappy things like Tony.

He slid the man a knife to cut open his bagel and was rewarded with the confused, owlish look Tony wore whenever anyone was nice to him. He was a suspicious and odd thing to be sure, underneath his usual engine grease and sandalwood scent, he smelled like hot metal and wind.

“Wasn’t it a bit early to take the suit out for a joyride, Tony?” Steve murmured as Tony smeared honey over a second bagel.

“It woke me up didn’t it?” Tony replied around a mouthful of bagel. “Wait, how’d you know I flew here? We got here hours ago.”

Steve was spared having to come up with a response by Fury, who marched in with Coulson and Maria, and they took in their rather sorry state with a sigh.

“Avengers,” he said and Steve bit back a grin as Clint and Bruce bolted upright with matching confused looks. “If we may begin.”  He sat up straighter after he pulled out his tablet and pretended to be interested in what the director was saying -something about how their latest drag out had once again demonized them in the eyes of the press- and looked down at where Tony’s icon was flashing with a received message.

 _It’s rude to ignore Fury, Tony_ , he typed back with a frown as he tapped the icon to reveal an awful doodle of Ironman, holding a cupcake and wearing a party hat.

 _It’s our anniversary, sugar pie, live a little,_  was the man’s immediate reply.  _Besides, you’ve been sidetracked since you walked in today, what’s wrong?_

Steve snuck a glance at Tony who looked almost painfully bored but was also resolutely staring at the charts pulled up at the center of their table and did not look like he was passing notes with Steve.

He never did.

 _Just a long day_  he typed back and wasn’t surprised when he got a response almost immediately after.

 _It’s nine in the morning, Steve, what the hell?_  Tony sent back and Steve did his best to ignore the flashing icon for the rest of the meeting, until Thor finally ambled back into their midst smelling more like his girlfriend than she did, and Tony caught his eye and raised a playful eyebrow.

 _I wonder if Fury knows about that vein on his forehead,_  Steve typed back in response completely unable to help himself. Tony covered his laugh with a cough but Maria’s answering frown told them they were caught. She glared at Tony who typed:

 _How come I’m always the one who gets yelled at?_ To which Steve replied:

 _It would help if you pretended to be sorry_ , sending it before Fury cleared his throat and Coulson handed out several heavy paper folders. He took one with a slight smile of thanks, knowing that the paper copies were entirely for his benefit.

“As a final order of business before you go to the press,” Fury went on, “New York’s finest have asked SHIELD’s help to look into string of murders.”

“Murders?” Bruce rumbled sitting up as everyone blinked in surprise. “What does that have to do with the Initiative?”

“Nothing, normally, but the nature of these killings have the police a bit…unsettled, and they’re beginning to think we might be better equipped to handle them.” Maria answered for him. Steve frowned at her strange tone and opened the folder.

Once he did, it became glaringly obvious why they would think so. The crime scene photo was a messy wash of red and the corpse inside the circle or gore looked like it was torn apart by a pack of wild animals

“Jesus,” Clint swore as he thumbed through the dossier at speed. “How many of them are there?”

“Six total,” Maria replied. “No witnesses, no evidence, just bodies found all over the city, no one is even looking for them, they’re all does.”

“ _No one_  came looking? Yeah, that’s weird,” Clint snorted, “What a way to go…”

“We’re not asking you to deal with this threat,” Fury stated calmly, “But we are asking you to be aware that there is a situation, one which might require your skills at some point. Do you have anything to add captain? You look like you’ve seen something like this before.”

Steve stared hard at the first photo; the woman that lay there looked as if she had been killed while trying to get away. He set the folder down and folded his shaking hands under the table, ignoring Tony and Natasha’s concerned looks.

“No, sir,” he replied while Tony tapped on the table beside him, looking unsettled. Coulson looked as if he wanted to ask something, but after a long moment Fury nodded and changed topics to the press junket that they were hosting to commemorate the Battle of New York.

Steve remained at his seat after the rest shuffled out to get ready to deal with the press. Tony hovered at the door for a moment, clearly unsure of what to say.

“You looked like you saw a ghost. What was that about?” he asked. Steve shrugged and turned back towards the folder, carefully placing its content back into the manila case.

“Okay,” Tony said dragging the word out into several syllables. “You’re being really weird today cap; we’re not done here,” he walked away like he was already bored with Steve’s sudden reticence but called back over his shoulder. “Don’ forget it’s movie night tonight. Jane is finally bringing her invisible assistant so don’t try and skip out.”

As soon as he is out of sight Steve let his head fall into his hands. The folder in front of him was filled with images he’d seen so many times, grisly scenes that had no place in a crowded city like New York.

There can be no mistaking a wolf kill.

Someone had broken the first law of the people. Someone was killing, and brutally, where the humans could see.

And Steve had to find them before SHIELD did.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment on anything that seems off or just drop in to let me now what you think, its all very helpful c:


End file.
